


Are You Happy Now?

by chasingshadows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek use your words, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, TWCP, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingshadows/pseuds/chasingshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t know because Derek never told him. Of all the things he said, those were words he couldn’t utter. Because admitting that, admitting how completely gone he was for Stiles, would leave Derek with no way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Happy Now?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justheartjami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheartjami/gifts).



> This is my (late) commission from the Sterek Campaign Charity Auctions for Jami <3 
> 
> Prompt: "Waiting for the End" by Linkin Park
> 
> Also I'd like to thank [Kedreeva](kedreeva.tumblr.com) for the beta. She makes my writing 100% better.
> 
> [Eeep eeeep eeeeeeep Ine made art!!!](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/48129345336/fanart-request-are-you-happy-now-by) <3<3<3
> 
> feel free to hit me up on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/chasingshhdws) (aka my feels palace) or on [my tumblr!](http://chasingshhadows.tumblr.com/)

Derek lost control.

He’d been doing so well, keeping himself in check. He’d pushed down those little voices begging him to reach out when Stiles smiled at him. Encouraging him to smile back, to _flirt_ even. Wanting him to pull the human into his arms, protect him, never let him go.

He’d ignored the urge to blurt out everything he thought of the Sheriff’s son, of how brave he was, of how enamored he was with the way Stiles’ mind worked, even when it was infuriating. Of how struck he was with the loyalty and passion and strength that radiated from him. He had refused to tell him how funny he thought Stiles was.

Derek hadn’t let himself get too close, wouldn’t allow himself to be alone with him. Even when Stiles consumed his thoughts and dreams in ways he hadn’t known in years. Even when it became torture to stay away, he had kept his distance. He’d told himself it was complicated because Stiles was in another pack, because he was too young, because he was human, but even he didn’t believe it.

Derek had stayed away because he burned everything he touched. And he refused to do that to Stiles.

So the alpha always looked away when Stiles tried to catch his eye. He ignored the way Stiles’ heart sped up when the human saw him. He ignored the scent, that distinctive hint of arousal that always spiked in Stiles. At least, he ignored it when Stiles was around.

But then Derek lost control.

It was an accident. Derek wasn’t prepared to handle an injured Stiles showing up on his doorstep, bloody and asking for help. He was caught off guard with no way out. Derek couldn’t turn him away, but letting Stiles in would also be a mistake.

But he did anyway. Derek opened the door, caught Stiles as he stumbled, lifted the teenager into his arms when it was clear he shouldn’t be walking. He was only half-conscious, but Derek got enough to understand that something had happened with Jackson.

Derek’s small apartment was barely furnished, so there was nowhere else to put Stiles but the bed and Derek was torn, knowing it would smell like the human for days.

There was a set of semi-deep claw marks across Stiles’ stomach, and five deeper puncture wounds around his left shoulder, amongst many bruises and minor cuts. Stiles was quickly losing consciousness, but it seemed more due to exhaustion than injury.

So Derek took care of him. He paused briefly before removing Stiles’ shirts, regretting the circumstances, but didn’t let himself spare a moment to appreciate the view. After grabbing supplies from the bathroom, he cleaned and stitched the claw marks, leeching away the pain so that Stiles’ couldn’t feel him stitch closed the punctures.

When he was finished with the major wounds and Stiles was completely out, Derek took a moment to look over the other injuries to his body. Bruises were forming all along his back and Derek would bet the claw punctures in his shoulder had been used to throw him against something. More bruises patched across his stomach and chest and there were scratches on the palms of his hands. Derek ran his thumb over the bump of Stiles’ black eye and his eyes cursed the cuts along his perfect lips.

Derek’s nostrils flared in barely contained rage, claws extending into the sheets and mattress. The desire to chase after Jackson and demand to know what happened warred with the instinct not to leave Stiles. The young beta hadn’t learned control like the others had. He went from being controlled by Matt and Gerard to being controlled by his wolf and Derek didn’t know how to help him. He’d told them all to stay away, but Stiles wasn’t well-known for following directions.

Derek stayed with Stiles, of course. It was silly to think it was even a question. Once he’d pushed down the anger and bloodlust, he rested his head on the crook of his elbow atop the mattress and finally gave into the urge to really take in Stiles. His eyes traced slowly up the line of Stiles’ body, drank in the sight of his smooth, pale skin, cut by lean muscle. Derek followed the trail of Stiles’ moles in a jagged path until they led him to Stiles’ smooth neck, sharp jaw, and those perfect, soft lips.

He just watched the human, memorizing every inch of his body until Stiles began to wake, heart-rate increasing and eyes fluttering.

That’s when Derek lost control.

Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out, running fingertips up Stiles’ throat, over his jawline, thumb pressing gently against Stiles’ bottom lip. Derek’s palm caressed the side of his face, thumb stroking back and forth along Stiles’ cheek bone.

Stiles reached full consciousness. His amber eyes widened in surprise before softening as he met Derek’s careful gaze, lips twitching in a tiny smile. He leaned into the touch, exhaling slowly.

Derek was capturing Stiles’ lips with his own before he realized he’d even moved. Stiles reacted instantly, hands reaching for him, pulling him closer and unlocking his jaw. Derek growled low in his throat and licked into Stiles’ mouth, causing him to let out a soft moan.

But then Derek was tasting blood and he pulled back, remembering Stiles’ injuries. When Stiles turned to better reach Derek, he winced and fell back, having rolled onto his bad shoulder. Derek tried to back away, but Stiles had fingers curled into his now-bloody Henley.

“Don’t,” Stiles begged, voice full of pain. “Please Derek, just, don’t, okay?” His voice was rough and strained, but there was a sense of urgency, almost desperation.

“What happened?” Derek grunted out, voice a rough mixture of anger and arousal.

“Nothing,” Stiles responded flatly. At Derek’s unconvinced look, he continued. “Look, I got mouthy and Jackson got wolfie. End of story.”

Derek’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed red; he stepped backwards, pulling Stiles’ hand along. Stiles pulled the alpha back, pain evident in his features, but he held fast nonetheless.

“No, don’t. He’s gone, Derek, he took off and I don’t think he’s coming back. So just, stay. Please,” Stiles urged.

“Stiles, I can’t-we can’t.” He reached to pull Stiles’ hand off his shirt without tugging his shoulder again, but Stiles latched onto him, interlocking their fingers in one quick movement.

Stiles tried to pull Derek closer, failing to hide his wince. “Why not?” he demanded, voice weak through his clenched jaw.  

Taking hold of his wrist, Derek pulled his hand from Stiles’ with as little pressure on the teen’s shoulder as possible. He took a couple of steps back. “Because I said we’re not,” Derek told him, gaining resolve as he spoke.

Stiles scoffed. “That shit’s not gonna work on me, Derek. I’m not one of your obedient little beta- Oh my god!” he sobbed. He’d tried to sit up, but didn’t get far before he was falling back again, hands flying to the bandages on his stomach, head tossed back and eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Anger and concern flooded Derek’s system and his resolve broke. He knelt beside the bed and pushed Stiles’ hands out of the way, laying his own flat on the teen’s stomach. His veins blackened as he drew the pain from Stiles’ body.

“Thanks,” came Stiles’ soft whisper. His hand rested on Derek’s neck and when Derek met his eyes, the alpha knew all control was gone.  
  
***  
  
“C’mon!” Stiles yelled, hopping out of the Jeep with ease.  

Derek climbed out, yelling after Stiles’ clumsy form. “No, Stiles, come back! It’s not safe.”

The human stopped, turned around, and rolled his eyes dramatically. “You are an alpha freaking werewolf. The only thing you’re afraid of is having fun. Now _c’mon_!”  

Derek bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile, then sighed and followed after Stiles. He caught up and in one swift motion had Stiles on his back and was walking.

“Hey!” Stiles protested, squirming to get down with no success. “Doc gave me a clean bill of health. It was just a cold, I’m _fine_.” When that did nothing, Stiles started whining. “Derek, I have feet, I can walk.”

“Not without tripping,” Derek teased him dryly.

“Well, okay, but I’m used to that. I don’t mind the little scratches,” Stiles told him, giving up and wrapping arms around Derek’s neck.

“Yeah, well, I do.”

There was a stutter to Stiles’ heartbeat, a catch in his breath and then Derek could feel warm, chapped lips against his neck. Stiles tightened his hold and rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Derek asked. He didn’t like it, carrying Stiles out into the woods like this. The Alphas had ditched town almost a year ago, possibly chasing after Jackson, who’d gone MIA after the incident with Stiles. The Argents had followed behind them, deciding they had bigger fish to fry than the Hale pack. Still, there were other things that liked to lurk in unclaimed forests and they were far from Hale territory.

“You’ll see when we get there.” When Derek opened his mouth to protest, Stiles cut him off. “Hey. It’s my birthday. My choice, remember?”

“Your birthday was yesterday,” Derek pointed out.

Stiles waved a hand. “Semantics.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but kept walking, following Stiles’ directions. Stiles talked, as he always did, and Derek listened, only speaking up occasionally. After about a half an hour of walking, Stiles said they were close.

“It’s just through those trees.” He was pointing a bit to the left, between two large oaks in the distance. Derek could hear water running nearby.

“What is?”

“You’ll see,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear, tone and warm breath sending shivers down Derek’s spine.

Derek swallowed and trudged on. When he was between the trees, he stopped, staring.

Before him was a vision. A large tree rose from a patch of land that was almost completely surrounded by the rushing stream. Large roots were exposed all around the trunk and moss covered much of it. It was April and the area was covered in flowers of all colors. Patches of sunlight sparkled in the stream, almost glittering where it dropped from a small waterfall just a couple yards from the tree.

“Cool, huh?” Stiles remarked softly. He pushed down from Derek’s loosened hold, grabbing his hand and leading him forward. They hopped the stream and Stiles pulled Derek down into his lap against the tree.

Derek wiggled his way to a comfortable position between Stiles’ legs, resting his head against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles wrapped long arms around him and they took a deep breath together.

“How did you find this place?” Derek asked, turning his head to see Stiles’ profile.

“Uh,” Stiles started, swallowing loudly. “My mom. She used to hike all the time and she found this place once. Brought me out here a couple times when I was a kid. I’m surprised I remembered where it was to be honest.”

“This is the first time you’ve been back?” Derek questioned, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. “I figure it’s been long enough.”

Derek turned, catching the little smile on Stiles’ lips with his own. He twisted a bit in his lover’s arms, hand reaching over his shoulder to cup Stiles’ jaw. They kissed until Stiles was out of breath, panting into Derek’s mouth.

“Thank you,” Stiles murmured softly, looking Derek directly in the eye. “For coming with me. It means a lot.”

Derek nodded, but said nothing, a lump forming in his throat at the intensity of Stiles’ stare.

They spent the day there, just taking it in. Except for a midday break to wander around and through the stream, they mostly relaxed on the ground, talking and telling stories. Once Stiles had realized he could get Derek talking, it had become his favorite thing to do. But Stiles was blind to the fact that he didn’t even need to try, that Derek was helpless when it came to him. The human didn’t see that making him happy had become Derek’s favorite thing.

Stiles didn’t know because Derek never told him. Of all the things he said, those were words he couldn’t utter. Because admitting that, admitting how completely gone he was for Stiles, would leave Derek with no way out. Because Derek had known from the start this couldn’t last, that he would eventually have to end it before it got too serious, before Stiles could get hurt. He just needed to take control, to find the strength to make himself go.

It wasn’t likely he’d find it today.

As the sun was setting, casting a haunting glow over the forest, Stiles was lying on his back atop tall, soft grass and flowers, fingers digging into the ground at his sides. Derek had relieved him of his shirts and was making slow progress down his body, leaving a wet trail of kisses in his wake. His hands covered Stiles’ wrists, keeping them pressed down.

When he reached the long-healed scars of the claw marks, he paused, as he always did. Derek had a love-hate relationship with those scars. Hate because Stiles had been hurt and he’d never gotten the chance to punish Jackson for beating the living shit out of him. Love because it was due to them that Derek was finally living out his fantasies, ones he’d sworn he’d never let himself have.

Derek pressed his face into the marks, breathing in the smell of Stiles. He smelled wonderful; young, vibrant, and tangy, a scent that was all Stiles. After pressing a flat tongue along the ridges of the scars, Derek continued his progress downwards.

“You’d think this would be less thrilling now that it’s legal,” Stiles panted out, voice high. He was already wrecked and Derek hadn’t even begun yet. His breath was shaky and uneven, heart rate erratic and even faster than normal. A sheen of sweat covered his skin and he was squirming like mad.

Derek rolled his eyes at him, then removed his hands with a glance that said _stay_. After adjusting his position, he undid the button and zipper of Stiles’ jeans and pulled them down to his thighs, dragging his boxers along for the ride.

Stiles was already hard, his spine arched. Derek placed hands on hips and pushed him back down, resulting in an annoyed grunt from Stiles. He rubbed a stubbled cheek against the soft skin on the inside of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles failed to stop a high whine from escaping.

Moving forward, Derek nosed up Stiles’ length and met Stiles’ wide, blown-out stare. There was a stutter in Stiles’ heartbeat and Derek smirked, holding his lover’s gaze as he parted his lips and took Stiles in.

Stiles moaned, loud and obscene, as Derek pulled out all of Stiles’ favorite tricks. He knew exactly how to drive his lover insane without pushing him over the edge and that’s exactly what he did. Stiles couldn’t even attempt to keep quiet and Derek catalogued each moan, whine and whimper, memorizing them.

“Please, Derek, unnhg, please, oh my-nnnnng, I just, I need, ahhh, please,” Stiles begged. His fingers were digging into the soil beneath him, his body squirming and arching beautifully.

Finally, when he figured Stiles’ mind was sufficiently shot, when words began to fail him, and he was just mumbling nonsense, Derek pulled out his final trick. He swallowed Stiles, reveled in the feel of him hitting the back of his throat. He growled, low and deep, wrenching a high, desperate moan from Stiles, then hollowed out his cheeks and literally pulled Stiles’ orgasm from him.

Stiles bit into his bottom lip, a long mewl escaping from his throat as he arched completely off the ground. Derek rode the wave with him, feeling the hot come spurting down his throat. Stiles collapsed on the ground with a huff of breath and Derek licked his dick from root to tip one last time. This earned a grunt from Stiles, who was breathing heavily and reaching for Derek, tangling long fingers in Derek’s hair.

The alpha crawled forward, resting most of his weight on Stiles and cupping his jaw with one hand. He looked down into Stiles’ eyes, just taking him in for a moment. The pupils of Stiles’ bright, golden eyes were still blown, but they were soft, a matching lazy smile playing on his lips.

Every one of Derek’s senses was being bombarded with the same thing. From the expression on Stiles’ face to the gentle way his fingers played with Derek’s hair. The way his heart was racing and the lingering taste of him in the back of Derek’s throat were eclipsed by the way Stiles’ smelled. His scent was heady, warm and free of stress and guilt and worry.

More so than any of that, though, was the overwhelming _feeling_ of Stiles. It was  from Derek’s other sense, the one that wasn’t human and neither was it quite wolf. Stiles was exuding happiness and joy and love like a burning star, radiating it out in every direction from himself, brightening everything around him and pulling Derek in.

Derek bent down and captured Stiles’ lips is a soft, deep kiss. He never wanted this moment to end.

Stiles sighed, happy and care-free. He pulled his jeans up without a word, buttoning them lazily, exhaustion evident in his features. Derek turned Stiles, arranging them both in a more comfortable position. He wrapped himself around his lover as tight as he could and breathed.

Derek held him and let himself pretend just for a little while that this was _right_. That Stiles was _his_.  
  
***  
  
It was completely dark as they were driving home, hands linked over the console. They were both silent, exhausted and utterly content.

Stiles’ phone buzzed and his hand tightened around Derek’s as his other dug into his pocket. He clicked around a moment on the phone’s screen before letting out a soft “Oh.”

“Hmm?” Derek inquired, raising an eyebrow and side-eyeing his lover.

Stiles looked over to him as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, um, it’s Scott,” he told Derek, looking back down at the screen, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Is everything okay?” Derek asked, squeezing Stiles’ hand.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just, um,” Stiles started, meeting Derek’s eyes. “SAT scores are posted.”

“Oh,” was all Derek could say. SATs. College. Sometimes Derek forgot that Stiles and his pack were still high school students, still had their whole lives ahead of them. Still had opportunities and options.

It wasn’t that he forgot, so much as that he actively avoided acknowledging it.

Because _this_ , this was Derek’s life. This was all it would ever be; Beacon Hills, because he would never escape it, and trying to rebuild, trying to heal. He didn’t have opportunities and options. Those had burned alongside his family. He had this.

But it was good, Derek thought, that Stiles did. Stiles was smart, even if he had trouble focusing sometimes, and he had no doubt scored high on that test. He would get in to some big, important university, maybe in California, but maybe he would end up on the East Coast. Either way, he wouldn’t be stuck here.

A sharp pain cut through Derek’s chest at the thought, at the very idea of Stiles leaving him. He grit his teeth against it, gripping the wheel tighter as he pushed down the lump in his throat. Stiles going away to college, Stiles getting away from this town- it was _right_.

The sound of Stiles drumming his fingers along the car door pulled Derek out of his thoughts. He squeezed Stiles’ hand again, rubbing his thumb along the back of Stiles’ hand to ease the stress he could sense from the teen.

“Are you gonna check?” Derek asked. They were still about 45 minutes from Beacon Hills and Stiles wasn’t exactly known for being patient.

Stiles looked up with a quick inhale, seeming to force a smile. “Eh, not that important, right? It’s not like you need SATs to get into community college,” he quipped, sounding as if he was trying to reassure himself.

But his words caught Derek off guard. “What are you talking about? Why would you go to community college?” he asked sharply, glancing over to Stiles.

Stiles snorted softly. “Derek, this is Northern California. Closest university is like, two hours away.”

Derek’s stomach dropped as he tried not to understand Stiles’ meaning. “So?”

“Soooo, it’s too far to commute. I’m not going to drive two hours to class every morning. That’s ridiculous. And imagine the strain that would put on my Jeep.” Stiles shook his head at the thought, grabbing his phone and shoving it back in his pocket as if he’d succeeded in convincing himself that he didn’t care.

“You don’t want to go away for college?” Derek asked quietly, his voice soft.

“No,” Stiles answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not gonna leave Beacon Hills. My dad, Scott, the pack. . . you,” he added, squeezing Derek’s hand and pulling it toward him. He pressed soft lips to the sensitive skin before letting their hands drop once more and he resumed drumming his fingers along the door.

Derek gave a half smile, because that seemed like the reaction Stiles was looking for, but he didn’t say anything. Stiles started talking about something, maybe school, but for once Derek wasn’t listening. Derek wasn’t even there.

_“Got something on your mind, sweetie?” Kate asked, glancing over at Derek as she turned the wheel, pulling onto a back road._

_He looked up from staring at his hands in his lap. “Uh, no. Just school stuff.”_

_Kate laughed, the sound alone cheering Derek up. Just like it always did. “School stuff? It’s the first week, how much school stuff can there be?” she asked playfully._

_Derek gave a soft chuckle, her good mood infectious. “It’s not homework. They made us all go to this meeting about college applications. I guess it got me thinking.”_

_“Oh? About what?”_

_“Boring teen stuff you don’t want to hear about,” he told her with a smirk._

_Kate huffed a laugh, but she wasn’t dropping the subject. “No, come on, honey, this is important stuff! College, the fuuuuuture,” she added with a smile._

_“Not really that important,” he responded. “At least, not for me.”_

_“I don’t follow.”_

_Derek sighed. “I’m not going to college. Or, not a big university.” He shrugged._

_“What? Look, I know your grades aren’t perfect, but you’re a shoe in for an athletic scholarship.” She flashed him an encouraging smile._

_“No, I know. It’s not that,” Derek corrected. “I don’t think I_ want _to go to a big college.”_

_“Well why not?” Kate asked, side-eyeing him._

_“Because,” he started, drawing out the word, turning up the charm. “I don’t want to leave; there’s too much keeping me here. I want to stay. With you.” He reached over to grab her hand._

_He ignored how she flinched when their skin touched. She’d told him, early on, that it was because of her father, that she had issues with others initiating contact, with intimacy. They were working on it. Their fingers intertwined, and he gave her hand a squeeze._

_“Aw, that’s really sweet, hun. Are you sure?” Her thumb rubbed Derek’s hand as she glanced over again, pulling into her apartment complex’s garage._

_“Yeah.” He nodded. “I am. I’m sure about_ this _.” He squeezed her hand once more, meeting her eye for a moment before clicking his seatbelt loose and getting out of the car._

_Derek slid across the front of the car as she got out. He attempted to trap Kate against the side of it, but she was ready for him and he found himself being pressed up against the door. It never ceased to amaze him how quick she was._

_“So, what?” she purred, nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re gonna stay here and I’ll be your sugar mama?”_

_Derek grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. “That’s the plan. I’ll clean the house and pay you in sexual favors,” he told her, winking._

_“Mmm,” Kate hummed, capturing his ear lobe between her teeth. “Now_ that _,” she began, curling her fingers against his ribs, dragging her nails over them, “sounds like a plan.” She looked up, capturing his lips with her own as his fingers dipped beneath her shirt. Derek was consumed by the fire, the heat of the moment-_

“Derek!”

Derek jumped, looking over to Stiles. “Sorry, what?”

Stiles’ eyebrows scrunched together. “You missed the turn,” he explained, voice full of questions.

“Oh. Shit.” Derek pulled his hand from Stiles’ to make a U-turn on the dark, empty road.

“Dude, you okay?” Stiles asked, worry heavy in his tone.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I zoned out.” Derek reached over to grab Stiles’ hand again, intertwining their fingers and ignoring the pang of déjà vu.

“What’s on your mind? You’re not usually this quiet,” Stiles commented, settling himself lower in the seat. Derek gave him a skeptical side-eye. Stiles huffed a laugh. “What? You’re not! You might play all silent and broody, but I know you better than that, sourwolf. You’re a regular chatterbox.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he responded doubtfully.

“You are,” Stiles insisted. “And now you’re being quiet. Unusually quiet. So what’s up?”

“Nothing, Stiles. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, I’ll just completely ignore the fact that my ultra-alert, hyper-aware werewolf boyfriend somehow missed the turn for Beacon Hills, while I was reminding him, no less,” Stiles snarked, gesturing with his hands, dragging Derek’s along for the ride.

Derek sighed. “Look, I’ve just got some stuff on my mind, okay? It’s got nothing to do with you.” He pulls Stiles’ hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss and rubbing over it with his thumb.

“Okay,” Stiles murmured slowly, gripping Derek’s hand like a lifeline. His heart was beating rapidly and Derek cursed himself for upsetting him.

Derek dropped Stiles off,  leaving him with a “Happy Birthday” and a kiss, soft and lingering. When he got back to his apartment, he took a deep breath and slumped against the door. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

 **Stiles**  
2150!!!!!! :D  
  
***  
  
Derek drove to the school the next day to pick up Stiles, just like he always did. But this was different and he knew it, as his heart clenched and his pulse raced. This was the last time.

He pulled into a spot and waited, finding Stiles’ heartbeat easily, following him through the school. The sound of his voice, joking and laughing with friends, sent a spike through Derek’s heart, but he ignored it, breathed through it. He could handle the pain.

He’d found his control.

Stiles’ opened the car door and flopped down into the seat, giving the back seat a confused glance. “Where’s the pack?”

“They went for a run,” Derek told him simply, having anticipated this question. The whole pack rode to and from school together every day, but Derek had told them to run home today. Thankfully they didn’t press for a reason.

Stiles nodded, looking out the window as if to check the weather. He shrugged and tossed his backpack into the backseat with a smirk. He always complained about having to cram it between his legs.

“So I scored higher than anyone else that I talked to,” Stiles started, continuing the SAT conversation from the morning drive.

“Oh?” Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow and pulled out of the parking lot, grateful for the traffic that would make this drive longer.

“Well, not Lydia obviously, but it’s not like I had a shot at beating her perfect score anyway. But Megan and Kevin didn’t even break 2K and I even beat Tyler by fifty,” Stiles told him smugly.

Derek gave him an encouraging smile and Stiles delved into the intricacies of the scoring process and talked about the sub-sections and percentiles. And Derek listened. He memorized every word, the lilt and tone of Stiles’ voice, the way he talked with his hands.

When they got to Stiles’ house, Derek parked and turned the car off, taking a deep, calming breath. _Just get it over with_ , he thought.

Stiles looked over at him, eyes narrowed. “As much as I’d love to have you over, Derek, my dad doesn’t work until lat-“

“It’s not working.” Derek suppressed a wince at the tone of his voice. It was cold, hard, distant.

Stiles tilted his head, eyes narrowing further. “What?” His voice was high and confused.

“This, Stiles. It isn’t working,” Derek lied. He was staring out the windshield, one elbow propped on the window and the other fist clenched on his knee.

The human drew back, turning his body to get a better view of Derek. Derek could hear his heart rate increasing, the thick, cloying smell of confusion rising off of him. “And by this you mean. . . ?”

Derek looked up, meeting Stiles’ stare. “Us.”

His eyebrows rose up and Stiles’ mouth popped slightly open as he seemed to register what was happening and his heart rate reached full speed. “Oh my God, you’re breaking up with me. What? Because we have so many problems. . . ?” He spoke slowly, making the sarcasm a question.

Sighing, Derek looked back out the windshield. “We can’t do this anymore. We’re not. It’s over.” The words were slow and clear, but they sounded tight through his clenched jaw. He forced himself to calm down. Stiles needed to believe this.

But he wasn’t. “You’re making no sense, Derek. This? You and me? It works. It works great. Actually, it’s _fantastic_. Yesterday was fantastic. Everything about us has been fantastic, other than keeping it all from my dad but we don’t really need to do that anymore.” He caught his breath, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Is that what this is about?”

“No, Stiles, that’s not what this is about,” Derek corrected in a flat tone. It was like he was on autopilot, not really present. He was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and this conversation. He needed to get out of there, make Stiles go.

“Then what, Derek?! We work. This, this is good. It’s _right_. We’re happy-“

“No.”

Stiles drew back, a shocked puff of air leaving his lungs. “No?”

Derek turned and looked Stiles directly in the eye. _Lie_. He had to lie. “No. I’m not happy.” His voice was firm, even, but it was hollow, empty. There was no emotion in the words, no depth, he’d swallowed all of that. And he ignored the stutter in Stiles’ heartbeat, the spike of hurt in his scent.

As if something inside him broke, Stiles slumped, falling against the car door at his back. His jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “And you want out?” he clarified, voice thick with pain.

Derek nodded, not trusting himself to respond. He caught other emotions coming from Stiles, ones he didn’t understand at first. Anger, but not directed at Derek, and guilt. _Fuck_ , Derek thought. Stiles was blaming himself, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

Every fiber of Derek’s being was screaming at him, like an electric charge running through his body, to reach out and pull Stiles into his arms, to hold him and tell him it was alright. Almost as if it had become his base instinct to stop Stiles from hurting.

But he had to do this, had to push him away. Because if he didn’t, he was going to destroy Stiles’ life, just like he’d destroyed everything else. Just like Kate destroyed him.

In that moment, more so than ever before, Derek wished he were anywhere but right here.  He wished he could be anybody else but Derek Hale, perennial fuck-up, doomed to want the things he can’t have, stupid enough to try to take them, if only for a little while.

Stiles drew a shaky breath. “So, what, does this mean I’m out of the pack?” he asked shrilly.

“I-“ Derek started dumbly, not having thought of this. But then he swallowed and nodded. This was how it needed to be. Dammit, how had he managed to make such a complete mess of everything? “Yeah. I guess it does.”

“Awesome.” Stiles let out a huff, almost like a laugh, but darker. “That’s just _fucking_ awesome.” Stiles reached back to the backseat, grabbing his bag. He sat back in the seat, glaring at Derek and gestured violently with one finger as he spoke. “That’s terrific, it’s so freaking wonderful to discover that this is all nothing, that it means nothing, that what we have been building for the past nine goddamn months has been absolutely nothing.” Stiles was talking fast in sharp, cutting words.

“And I’m _sorry_ ,” he mocked, “for having made you unhappy. For having made this unbearable for you.” He reached behind him to the door handle, not taking his eyes off Derek. “I hope you’re freaking _happy_ now.”

Derek couldn’t look at Stiles, even though he knew he owed it to him. He just stared out the window and reached for the ignition. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

“Fuck you.” Stiles opened the door and stumbled out, dragging his bag with him. It caught on the door and he fumbled with it desperately, trying to pull it away. Once he got it free, he slammed the door and stormed into the house.

Derek took a deep breath and started the Camaro, trying not to listen as the Sheriff asked Stiles what was wrong. As he pulled out of the driveway, he tried not to hear Stiles say he didn’t want to talk about it and rush into his room, banging the door shut behind him. Driving down the road, he ignored the sound of Stiles sniffling and throwing things around the room, trying to pretend he wasn’t so acutely attuned to the sound of his racing heartbeat.

Derek drove fast. At first he headed toward his apartment, but the way Stiles’ scent in the car was threatening to overwhelm him ruled out that option. Now that he was away from Stiles, everything was coming crashing down and he needed to get away. Just away from it all.

He pulled the car over on the side of a back road by the Preserve and got out, feeling his claws and face shifting. Derek let the wolf take over, unleashing a howl and taking off running into the woods.    
  
***  
  
 _You’ll always be alone, Derek._

Derek shook his head, trying to rid himself of her voice. He rubbed his face with his hands and slammed his head against the panel at his back.

He’d been deluding himself for too long, that’s why this was so hard, he thought. Derek had been playing the role so well, he’d actually let himself believe he could stay with Stiles. He’d allowed himself to hope.

 _God_ , his chest just wouldn’t stop aching. It was like there was a rock embedded in his ribcage, a solid weight pressing on his heart and lungs, cutting off his air. And yet, still, somehow, he felt hollow and empty. Like there was nothing left. Nothing but the ash and dust that surrounded him.

Derek didn’t know why he kept coming here. He found himself stumbling through the door that first night, the smell of the ashes of his family, of his old life, drowning out everything else for a while.

He stayed there that night, lost in the memories of his family. They were thick and painful and tore at his mind until it all came back to _her_. To the fire. To the way it still burned inside him.

During the day he went about his normal routine, taking the pack to school in the morning, patrolling the territory, picking them up again. Derek knew he had to seem as unaffected by the break-up as possible or Stiles would catch on, try to convince him to come back, that they could _make_ it work. And he might give in.

So he kept up appearances. Told the pack to give Stiles his space at school, even though they were confused, even though he knew what they could smell on him. But each evening, he came back here. No one would look for him- he hadn’t been back to this place since they found the alpha mark. No would find him, sitting in this house with the ghosts of his family, with his greatest mistake.

And yet, that’s not what consumed his thoughts or his heart. His mind kept replaying over and over the conversation in the car, the sounds he heard as he pulled away. Stiles’ broken words, his tears, the thick pain radiating from him... it was destroying Derek from the inside, out.

Still, nearly a week later, every cell in his body felt as if it was being pulled toward Stiles. In town it was stronger; his wolf could sense exactly where Stiles was. Sitting in his old home, miles from town, it was still there, like a buzzing in his bones, muted but strong.

 _I hope you’re freaking_ happy _now._

Derek was gasping, trying to pull in air. It shouldn’t be like this, he thought. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’d been through this before, from losing his entire family to turning his back on his life in New York. Even losing Laura, as much as that hurt, as much as that left him raw. . . it wasn’t like this.

He had learned how to pick himself up, moving on had become second nature. He couldn’t get past Stiles though. It was like the human had worked himself into Derek’s very soul, and he couldn’t find the strength to wrest himself free.

He had to. Derek had to stay strong, keep away from Stiles, push him away, because it was necessary. He refused to let Stiles throw away his life for him. Derek wouldn’t keep him trapped here, he wouldn’t hold him back. Even if that was what Stiles thought he wanted, because Derek knew it was wrong. He would be no better than Kate if he let Stiles stay.

The front door creaked open and Derek looked up, pulled from his thoughts. The pack knew to stay away, he’d told them he just needed some space. Then he caught that _scent_ , heard that too-fast heartbeat, and he sighed. Stiles appeared in the doorway, reaching out to inspect the charred frame.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Derek remarked.

Stiles glanced over to Derek where he was sitting on the floor in the corner, elbows resting on his knees. “Neither should you,” he commented.

Derek closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this right now.  “Look, Stiles, I’m sorry about the way I ended things, but it’s over.” He didn’t look up, didn’t even open his eyes.

“Yeah, you said that.” Stiles took a few more steps into the room, leaning against the table across from Derek. “And gahh, I believed it, too. I think I was so confused and- and hurt that I didn’t stop to think about what total _bullshit_ it was.” Stiles huffed out through his nose in a way that was almost amused.

At that, Derek looked up, eyebrows scrunching together as he took Stiles in, palms braced against the table on either side of him, heartbeat fast but steady. He looked... _calm_. But not quite. There was no trace of the pain and confusion from before in his scent, but there was something else, something Derek knew very well.

Anger.

Derek’s jaw clenched. “It’s not bullshit, Stiles” he replied, unable to keep the frustration from leaking into his voice. Why couldn’t he just go away and make this easier on both of them? “I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Stiles nodded with a soft chuckle as if that was exactly what he was expecting. “There you go again. You know, Derek, I might not be a werewolf, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell when you’re lying to me. Which is exactly what you’re doing right now. It’s exactly what you did the other night.” He was gesturing with one arm, getting himself worked up. “You _lied_.”

 _Fuck_ , Derek thought. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. “I’m not lying! Why-“

“Yes, you are!” Stiles shouted, shoving off from the table hard enough to topple it, jabbing his finger at Derek. “You are lying to me and I missed it at first, I did, but once I calmed down and thought about it, I recognized it. It took me days to figure it out,” Stiles admitted, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Derek as he spoke.

“Because there’s nothing-“ Derek started, but Stiles ignored him as he kept going.

“But then it _clicked_. And once it did it just made so much sense.” Stiles stopped, turning to face Derek. “I finally got it. And then I got pissed.”

“Stiles, I don’t know what-“

But Stiles still wasn’t listening to him, flailing his arms about as he ranted. “I got so fucking livid because you, Derek Hale, are a grade A asshole. And a dumbass. Because you think you’re holding me back or trapping me here or whatever- and that’s not at all true, but it’s not like you cared to ask my opinion. No, you went ahead and made the decision to end us, to push me off to bigger and better things without even talking to me about it. And worst of all, you _lied_ to do it. Because you got it in your head that you’re ruining my life and that you’re not allowed to be happy because Derek Hale can’t have nice things,” Stiles declared, his words sharp, harsh.

Derek glared back at Stiles’ hard stare, jaw clenching. He wanted to deny Stiles’ accusations, but he was just so dead on, so fucking perceptive that Derek was lost for words.

Stiles dropped his arms and stepped forward until he was right in front of Derek. He crouched, resting his wrists on his knees, their bodies less than a foot apart. “But I’m done letting you make the decisions, because, well, you’re right, you’ve got a knack for making shitty ones. Because despite everything, despite the fact that you are an asshole and a dumbass,” Stiles repeated, reaching forward to put his hands on Derek’s knees. “My life is so much better with you in it.”

Derek looked down. “Stiles, you don’t-I can’t-“

“Derek.”

Derek looked back up.

“I’m not going anywhere, Derek. You’re stuck with me. If I decide I do want to go to some big, far away university, guess what? I’m moving your little werewolf ass with me. And we are going to stand up, right now, and walk out of this house together and go back to your apartment and have crazy, loud, mind-blowing make-up sex.

“Unless,” Stiles continued, using his leverage on Derek’s knees to readjust himself to a kneeling position so he could lean in until their faces were just inches apart. “You can look me in the eye right now and tell me you don’t love me.”

Derek just stared at Stiles for a moment. This, all of this, was not a side of him that he’d ever seen before. This was a Stiles that reached out and took the things he wanted and said fuck-all to the consequences. He was strong and determined and Derek could feel himself falling somehow more in love with him than he already was.

He opened and closed his mouth uselessly, staring into Stiles’ intense amber eyes. Derek felt raw, exposed, and utterly vulnerable, and yet, with Stiles’ long fingers sprawled across his knees and his scent invading Derek’s lungs, he felt completely safe. But sitting here like this, as if his very soul was on display, Derek couldn’t do what he knew he needed to do, couldn’t say the lie Stiles was asking to hear.

After a couple of moments, Stiles nodded, as if coming to a conclusion, and stood. He looked down at Derek and reached out a hand.

Derek stared at that hand, knowing everything it meant. He knew if he took what Stiles was offering, there would be no way out, no escape route. He would be admitting in one act all the things he’d never been able to say in words. He would be dooming Stiles to the life he wanted, the one with Derek in it.

Derek reached out and took Stiles’ hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, so after Kedreeva made fun of me for using said (jokingly but still) I made it a personal challenge not to use said at all to describe dialogue in a fic. This was that fic. #proud


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